


our deal

by hcdalcxa



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hcdalcxa/pseuds/hcdalcxa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her life was almost perfect, it seemed. Her career was picking up as more and more people began noticing her displays (being able to put her pieces in a gallery associated with such a prestigious school was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to an artist her age), her mom seemed to be becoming happier and happier (she was starting to smile again now that Kane was around; she seemed lighter. Almost like she had before Jake had passed away), and despite the lack of progress with Finn, there was no regression, so that was something right? (she really did love him, she told herself. They were just stuck in a rut they needed to get out of). Everything was peachy-keen. At least, so she believed.</p><p>---</p><p>Or, that one Military School AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. bad before good

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so because I am a child, this is based loosely (or not so loosely) off of Cadet Kelly, the Disney Channel Movie. I saw a lot of our lovely Commander in Captain Stone, and then the idea just blossomed. I don't know much about Military school or anything Military, so hmu if you do because I would love to learn. Anyway, without further ado--

Clarke had never believed her life to be anything worthy of documenting. Yes, she lived in one of the most exciting cities in the world, but life in New York City was a very humbling experience. She was one of eight million people, each of whom had aspirations and hopes and dreams. It could be mind-boggling and it definitely kept her ego down, but she was happy surrounded by her favorite people in the world-- her mom, her loving boyfriend, and even the newest addition to the family, Marcus Kane. And lucky enough for her, she was able to develop and follow her own aspirations and hopes and dreams by attending one of the most artistic schools in the city-- New York’s very own High School of Art and Design.

Her life was almost perfect, it seemed. Her future career path was picking up as more and more people began noticing her displays (being able to put her pieces in a gallery associated with such a prestigious school was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to an artist her age), her mom seemed to be becoming happier and happier (she was starting to smile again now that Kane was around; she seemed lighter. Almost like she had before Jake had passed away), and despite the lack of progress in her relationship with Finn, there was no regression, so that was something right? (she really did love him, she told herself. They were just stuck in a rut they needed to get out of) Everything was peachy-keen. At least, so she believed. Until--

“Wait, did you say we’re _moving_?” Clarke’s eyes had grown wide with the nauseating churn of her stomach. She couldn’t have heard that right. She _couldn’t_ have.

Abby chewed on the inside of her cheek, choosing her words carefully before looking her daughter in the eye again. “Yes. Well, you see, Kane finally got that job he’s been looking for. And as it turns out, he’d like us to come with him.”

“Come with him? You guys have been together for what, like six months?” She cried, her brain scrambling to recall the date he’d first come over for dinner. But it was of no use; her mind was working full throttle at the moment, thinking over all of the possibilities that were suddenly coming swiftly to an end. Moving meant leaving Finn behind, leaving her friends behind, and most importantly, leaving her school behind-- which meant the end of her career as she knew it.

“Eighteen months, Clarke. And moving in...comes with the territory,” she explained, her voice growing softer. As if she were dancing around something, something that Clarke wouldn’t like.

“What territory?”

“Clarke, Marcus and I are getting married. This summer.” Clarke could see the warning in her eyes, the look that told her ‘we are not going to argue about this now.’ But Clarke couldn’t find it in herself to care as her eyes grew wider, her mouth flying open to protest. Abby cut her off before she could. “And in the fall, we are moving upstate with him so that he can start his new job.” Her tone left no room for discussion, but Clarke couldn’t stop the near-whimper that next fell from her mouth.

“What about my school?” Abby’s eyes flit away, refusing to meet her daughter’s. Her voice sounded almost as pained as Clarke’s but she didn’t let the emotion show in her face.

“You’ll be attending the school Marcus is going to be working for. Camp Jaha Military Academy.”

***

“You’re not going to find some other guy, are you?” Finn asked, his lips curling up into a teasing smile. He’d never been the jealous type-- always very go-with-the-flow. Possession just wasn’t his thing.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and she blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face. She smoothed the clothing out, but by eyeing it, she could tell it wouldn’t all fit. Sighing, she gave up, flinging herself down onto her bed and throwing her hands over her face.

“I’ll take that as a no,” the silky voice murmured low in her ear. She could feel the wisps of long hair tickling her forehead and his breath hitting her neck. When she opened her eyes, she was met with the chocolate brown irises so dark in the dim natural lighting of the room that she could barely distinguish them from the wide pupils. She crooked a smile, despite the exhaustion heavy in her body from packing, and reached for his neck to pull him down into a kiss. It didn’t last long however - as of late, they rarely did - because when he started to deepen it, she simply sunk back into the bedding, releasing her hold on him. He gave a groan, but didn’t fight it. He was used to this-- the quick peck and the pull away. Over the past few months, it had become their norm.

“I’ll be damned if I find someone else in a place like that,” Clarke explained, her expression darkening. “The way Marcus can act sometimes...it’s like he expects me to be some mindless robot. I could never be into someone who can't even think for themselves.”

And in that moment, she meant it.

***

Getting off the bus was like entering a whole ‘nother world. For a moment, she couldn’t wait to get on the phone and laugh with Finn about all the stupid uniforms that peppered the green lawn-- until she remembered that as soon as she settled in, she’d be wearing a uniform of her own. Abby had promised she could come home on the weekends, but taking a look around the place made her wonder if that would be enough. Everyone seemed to be walking in unison, whether a part of a formation or not. They all held their heads high, eyes forward, chins up, with practically no emotion in their faces.

This is what Clarke had been afraid of.

The loud-mouthed boy who stood a few feet to the left of her was giving instructions on how to get to the-- uh, barracks. For a second, Clarke considered jumping right back on the bus and begging it to send her home, but even as she turned around to assess the rationality of the action, she could see the door close. Her heart sunk and her shoulders slumped as it occurred to her just how stuck she really was.

After allowing herself a moment to feel the betrayal seeping into her bones and the unfairness of it all, she swallowed the emotion threatening to leak out of her eyes, and instead straightened her back. She assumed the posture of the people around her and took into account how they walked. And she followed, best she could in her awkward jeans and sweat jacket, toting her terribly out of place suitcase.

The room was just like any she’d seen from television programs. Olive green was the primary color, with accents of black and the dirty looking off-white of the floor. _How cheery._ Next, she took into account the people. All female, all around her age. 16 and older, it seemed. Most looked at least a little friendly, and the air was filled with the welcome sound of teenage chattering.

_Maybe Clarke could trick herself into believing this was just a messed up version of summer camp._

From her left, she heard a loud groan, and a quick set of shoes approaching. “Ugh, we got Captain Woods _again._ ”

Clarke turned to take in the short-statured girl, her walk far too jolty for a place like this. Piercing blue eyes framed by dark brown eyebrows narrowed in what Clarke could only decipher as disgust.

“Who’s Captain Woods?” She asked, her voice carrying much too far. Suddenly, she could feel two dozen pairs of eyes on her and she realized what a stupid move it had been.

The body in the bed next to her stirred, and a beautiful girl with a resting bitch face scary enough to put Dracula in his place appeared.

“Just the meanest 18 year old in America,” she huffed, voice rough. She shrugged, almond shaped eyes latching onto Clarke’s. “She’s our squad leader.”

The other girl piped up again. “She’s the one who tells us what to do and when to do it.” She put her hands on her hips, her bottom lip poking into a pout. It was obvious that these two, along with the rest of the girls in the room, wanted nothing to do with this Captain Woods.

“That sounds horrible. I mean, we’ve got brains, right? We can think for ourselves,” she declared. But when she didn’t hear a resounding murmur of agreement, she shrunk back a little bit. “Can’t we?”

“Not around her, you can't,” blue eyes explained.

“I hear she’s got a buzzard for a pet,” the tough one replied, before sighing. “She’s probably going to be all over Bellamy again this year.” She didn’t seem too upset by this, but by the other sighs that followed, it was clear that this was not a happy notion.

“What’s a Bellamy?” Clarke questioned, nose wrinkling.

“He’s a Cadet Major, meaning he’s pretty much in charge of all of us,” the shorter girl answered, rolling her eyes with obvious irritation. “He’s also my brother.” She plopped herself down onto Clarke’s bed, not waiting for any kind of invitation. As she did so, the other women in the room seemed to disperse, breaking off into smaller groups to discuss this Captain Woods and her involvement with Bellamy. “I’m Octavia, by the way.”

“And I’m Raven. Alternatively Reyes.” The olive-toned girl stuck out a hand for Clarke to shake, a small smirk forming on her lips as if it were made to be there.

“I’m Clarke Griffin,” the blonde answered, shaking it. And despite the fact that her heart was still squeezing in her chest, Clarke allowed herself to smile back.

Octavia clapped a hand against the blonde’s shoulder. “I think you’re going to like it here, Clarke.”


	2. be brave

Things within the barracks had been calm for a couple minutes. Clarke was still in her regular gear, but had forgotten all about the necessity to fit in, her rugged green uniform completely slipping her mind. It was only when she reached into her bag to pull out her favorite necklace -- the only one she’d allowed herself to bring along, the one Finn had crafted for her -- that she was smashed back into the reality of her situation. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Raven called, barely looking up from the book she had settled in to read. “It’s not regulation.” She flipped the page, seemingly unbothered. 

“It’s just a necklace,” Clarke murmured, her voice defiant as she stuffed the low hanging trinket into the safety of her shirt. “No one is going to even know it’s there but us.” 

“Everything here is by the book.” Her voice held traces of warning, but Clarke wasn’t having it. It was her one reminder from home-- how could she just give that up? 

“Thanks for the advice, Raven, but I’d really like to retain some individuality while I’m here.” She resisted the urge to pull at the chain where it fell into the familiar grooves of her collar bones and around the nape of her neck, the cool metal acting as a pacifier. 

“Alright, ignore me,” the dark-haired woman shrugged, surrendering. Clarke could hear the know-it-all tone to her voice however, making her even less inclined to take the advice while she could. 

It was then that a loud, demanding voice echoed through the room. Had Clarke not seen many a military film, she might’ve mistaken the obvious call for attention as an intelligible order of “ten-hut,” which would've held no connotation to her. But she was lucky enough to know the meaning behind the command. 

She filed in with the rest of the women, looking incredibly out of place in her baby blue jacket, hair falling in waves around her face while everyone around her had donned unnaturally tight and ill-fitting buns. She could see the other girls side-eyeing her, Octavia looking pretty distraught at the sight, but she realized with a sinking feeling that there was nothing she could do about it now. 

The padding sound of boots coming down the ranks was made much more intimidating by the fact that it was the only thing Clarke could hear in the room. She couldn’t even catch onto the sound of Raven breathing next to her. As the black leather Bellevilles made their way down the aisle, the feeling of her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest became more and more apparent. 

She hoped and prayed that the pair wouldn’t stop in front of her, that they would know who she was, that she was so completely _brand new_ to all of this, and that they would understand. But of course, any hope she’d been clinging to was promptly squashed. 

The girl, who Clarke could now see looked barely 18, if that, appraised her silently, her eyes clearly displeased at the sight that lay before them. Clarke huffed a breath, just wishing the whole encounter over with. But she quickly realized the mistake, for as soon as she did, the Captain was quick to follow with a huff of her own. 

“I’m sorry,” the tall figure began, voice far too strong and loud for such a willowy-statured girl. “But what exactly is this...ratty ensemble you’re wearing?” Her voice rolled in a way that Clarke was not familiar with. There wasn’t an accent present, not one thick enough that she could place anyway, but the diction was much different from that which she was used to. 

Outraged by the words that sounded in her ears and taken aback by the _sweetness_ of the breath being spit into her face -- completely counter-intuitive if you ask her -- Clarke heaved indignantly. 

“It’s _not_ ratty,” was all that she could clap back with. 

She swore she could see the Captain’s lips twitch. The tall brunette rolled back on her heels to allow some space between them before holding her hand out in want. 

It became clear that she was asking -- without the courtesy of really _asking_ \-- for Clarke’s jacket. After a moment of silently staring each other down, the blonde shrugged out of her jacket, refusing to release eye contact, and let the bundle of fabric fall gracefully into the Captain’s hands. 

There was no hesitation on the Captain’s part as she let the article of clothing drop to the ground in front of her. Clarke watched in horror as the shiny black Belleville was picked up from it’s spot on the ground, only to be crushed into the soft fabric and violently used to smother the soft jacket under the toe of the boot. 

Clarke’s breath left her in a cloud of disbelief as her jaw dropped and eyes popped open. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. When she finally looked back up to meet the Captain’s eyes, she could see the ghost of a smile waft over the brunette's (mind-numbingly gorgeous) face. 

“It is now,” the Captain whispered quietly, as if it had been some kind of private joke between the two of them. Her eyes flickered, and just for a moment, Clarke swore she could see some kind of softness to them. But it was gone as soon as it had appeared. “And keep it out of my barracks,” she ordered, her voice projecting to fill every empty space of the room. 

Clarke was still beside herself, but the humiliation had now made way to pure anger and defiance. “Why would you do something like that?” She asked, more for the sake of making a scene than for curiosity. Her tone lost all incredulity however, as she bit back a bitter laugh. “Oh wait, my bad. You must be Captain Woods.” The brunette’s eyebrow cocked, unimpressed, as if to say _‘no shit.’_

The piercing sea green eyes -- were they green? They could also be blue, or even silver, Clarke decided -- glanced over Clarke’s figure once more, sizing her up, before coming back to look her dead in the eye. “You’re on my list.” She paused, choosing very carefully the insult that would most suit her purpose. “Maggot.” And with that, she, and her even taller confidant -- the one Clarke hadn’t noticed in her previous state of mortification -- proceeded to continue their perfectly unified march down the aisle. 

“Yeah, well, you’d be on my list if I had one,” Clarke mumbled under her breath. 

Tension dripped from the air as the Captain stopped in her tracks, and Clarke could feel the bright red return to her face once more, though the other girl didn’t turn to see it. 

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” she growled, and Clarke could practically see her lips curling in disgust. But she stepped forward and didn’t stop until she reached her personal suite on the opposite side of the room. “As you were!” Her confidant shouted. And with that, the door was closed, leaving the cadets to continue on with their day. 

Clarke whirled to face Raven and Octavia, the latter of whom was trying to hold in loud sniggering. “Phew. Trouble ahead, girl,” she commented breathlessly, placing a hand on Raven’s shoulder to balance her. Raven simply smirked at Clarke, arms crossed, with an _‘I told you so’_ glimmer in her eyes. 

“Yeah, well there’ll be trouble ahead for her too,” Clarke grumbled, reaching over to retrieve her poor jacket. The way she figured, it had done nothing to Captain Woods. It didn’t deserve the treatment it had just experienced. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Raven questioned, motioning for Clarke to take a seat on her bed. “In her eyes, you’re just a lowly speck of dust.” 

“Well that’s now how I see it, okay?” She began, refusing to take a seat. She had far too much adrenaline rushing through her body -- from her close encounter, she told herself. Not from seeing those green eyes boring into her. No, definitely not from that -- to sit down. “We may be in military school, but we still live in a democracy,” she cried, her voice getting louder with each word. She wanted nothing more than for her fellow cadets to hear and join in. “Some things are just going to have to change around here.” It was obvious, though, that no one besides Octavia and Raven were interested. 

“You’re going to change a school that’s been around for a hundred years?” Octavia questioned, her eyes telling Clarke that she couldn’t quite believe that it was a possibility. “I don’t think so.” 

Raven glared Clarke down, stepping forward until Clarke had no choice but to look her directly in the eyes. “My advice? Don’t cross Lexa.” With that, she stepped away to recline along her bed again, picking up her book to where she had last left off. 

It was becoming obvious to Clarke just how much was wrong at Camp Jaha Military Academy. And just how much needed to be changed. It was also becoming obvious to her that she was going to be the only one who would be able to stand up to the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so, I had a lot of extra time on my hands today with not much else to do, so here's the second chapter. Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this was my first chapter which was completely unbeta'd so any mistakes belong to me! More will be along very soon, I hope. Until then, feel free to come bug me about it on tumblr, where I can be found by the same name. If you're super lazy and wouldn't like to do that (like me tbh) feel free to leave a comment on here telling me what you think! Thanks for reading!!


End file.
